You Were a Kindness
by liesincrayon
Summary: Arthur/Eames- Warnings: AU, Language, Crackfic! sort of!, fluff.


Dress!Verse Arthur/Eames Prequel? to Perfect Day.

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They meet on the 4'o'clock out of downtown, in the back, where Arthur only ended up when all the other cars were full. All the cars are full, predictably, because it is raining, and a holiday, and of course all the cars are filled because the universe hates him. They meet when someone steals Arthur's wallet, and Eames trips them as they try to run for the car exit. It happens in slow-motion, the wallet flies through the air, hits a window, gets lodged in the top of one of the annoying advertisement boards.

The hoodlum gets away, and his savior stays around to help balance him as he misses his stop trying to get his wallet down. When he finally does, he's so full of irrational joy, and goodwill, that he offers to buy the other man dinner. Eames doesn't have a first name, which is fine, because Arthur does not give a last name. They have dinner a few times that month, because Arthur likes to give himself little gifts, and fine food is one of them.

After a few more months, fine wine becomes one of them too, and Eames' company is definitely at the top. Arthur has no family in the city, no friends outside of work, and he does not mix work and pleasure, he explains that to Eames matter-of-factly one night over drinks in a legal pub he has no business being in, but Eames seems to know all the regulars. Eames knows practically everyone, some Arthur suspects he doesn't actually know at all. Eames collects people, like Arthur pushes them away, but Eames doesn't seem to be putting Arthur on any shelves in his collection.

The truth is, Arthur wouldn't want to date anyone at work anyway, since the only people he finds attractive there are also married, or in the case of Charlie, completely batshit insane. Arthur's basis of batshit insane is putting too much sugar in his tea though, so Arthur's standards are set a little high. Eames is insane too, but with an edge to it that Arthur says he doesn't like, but really likes more than he would ever admit. Eames calls him darling and weaves an arm around him when it snows, and always teases him about his suits.

Arthur is terrified when Eames doesn't show up for their weekly dinners, and steadily his inner-demons eat at him. By the third week of no Eames, he is completely convinced that the man has finally moved on and found someone more engaging to tease. But despite his assured belief in this, Arthur keeps going to their appointed meeting place and waiting, because Arthur likes patterns. Finds comfort in the familiar, in something repetitious, and Eames' teasing smiles had filled an empty void he couldn't reconcile.

Six weeks down Eames finally comes back to their bench, right outside the stop they'd finally got off on that first night, when Arthur had been punch-drunk over the feeling one gets when a complete stranger turns from a potential enemy to a friend. His arm is in a sling, and his eye has a dark bruise, that was probably much worse five weeks ago when he'd gotten it. He looks tired, and like he's been searching for Arthur as long as Arthur has been waiting. The Brit attempts to hide the display of emotion with a teasing grin.

Arthur takes Eames by surprise, wipes the cocky grin off his lips, and hugs him, tight, crushing, yet careful of the arm in it's sling. "Oi, love..." is all Eames says, a soft breathless exhale, and Arthur stops shaking when Eames presses a kiss to his hair.

That night they get drunk, very, very drunk, and Eames tells Arthur more than he has ever told him, but no more than Arthur has already learned. They make it to a flat, and then they make it to a bed, they don't make it to sleep though for another hour. It's too fast, and not enough, and too much, and perfect, and Arthur leaves marks along Eames' back that prove he's been there, and Eames curses every time they bump his arm. But it's perfect, and irrational, and everything Arthur has ever wanted.

Arthur's alarm doesn't go off, or maybe it does, but someone shut it off. Which of these it is, does not really matter, because the outcome is the same, his alarm does not go off. When he finally awakens, light is spilling across his face, he tries to burrow himself away from it, because rationally, he has until his alarm goes off, damn what the sun thinks. Except the alarm isn't going to go off, and the thing of which he is trying to burrow into is not soft and forgiving like his pillow.

Opening bleary eyes, he notes idly half-familiar markings, thick swirls of black on tan skin. He is tracing a large swirl of ink against the dip of shoulder blade before he realizes Eames is in his bed. It's another half a minute before he realizes that it's not his bed, which is why his alarm did not go off, and he is late late late.

Eames purrs and watches as he dresses, and is completely of no use to Arthur in the actions of getting to work on time. Arthur slips his key into Eames' hand, and tells him in clear terms that he is never coming to his flat again. The grin on the Englishman's face is almost contagious, would be if it were anyone save for Arthur, who is largely immune to contagions like glee.

It's irrationally perfect, and Arthur hopes he'll get to see it every day of his life.


End file.
